Sometimes I'm scared to talk about how long it has been since our sweet girl was in our arms. Because no one else is as aware of each passing day as I am. Because people assume I'm talking about something else. And it says to me that they have moved on.
Sometimes I'm scared to say just how much I miss her. Because sometimes it feels like people don't want to hear about her anymore.
Sometimes I'm scared to meet new people. Actually, I'm always scared to meet new people. When they ask if I have kids or if this is my first pregnancy, how will they react when I tell them about Ariella? Will they be awkward? Will they literally back away? Or maybe, will they ask me about her? But sometimes I'm too scared to take that risk.
Sometimes I'm scared to be honest. Because if I'm honest, it often means I'm blunt at the same time. And I don't want to hurt others; I feel like I should be considerate of them. But honestly? I'm tired of making excuses for others. Of qualifying everything I say in order to lessen the chances of offending someone. I wish I could scream from the rooftops that this is my grief. Mine and my husband's. Stop comparing yours with ours. Stop trying to make it better. Stop trying to fix us. This cannot be fixed. Just be with us.
|From A Bed For My Heart's facebook page|
Sometimes I'm scared that people think the hope I have in Jesus is the answer to my pain now. It's not. A fellow Christian said the perfect thing to us the other week - "while you would be comforted in knowing she is with our Heavenly Father, you must miss her terribly here on earth." Yes. We do. And the comfort we have in Jesus does not mean we miss her any less.
Sometimes I'm scared to finish blog posts where I want to finish. I feel like I should end on a positive or at least on a hopeful note. But some days just aren't like that...